Max the Golden Boot

by Joachim Masannek

  “Incorrect,” Tyler said. “Woodstock is number one in the table and they drew against Ashburn. If we beat them and win the next game against The Riders we are back in the picture.”

  “And how do you plan to win against Ashburn?“

  The Wild Soccer Bunch all looked at me.

  “With you! Who do you think?!” Zoe responded. “How else? We would have won today if you had stuck around.”

  I looked at her totally confused.

  “B-but I never p-pass!”

  “So? We’ll have to change that,” Tyler said.

  “No, you can’t.” I felt the first tear creep out of my eyes. “It doesn’t have anything to do with practice. And it doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to pass. I do want to pass. It’s just that—”

  I couldn’t say it. I didn’t have the guts.

  “It’s just what—?” Tyler asked and knelt in front of me.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it.

  “Roger, come here!” Tyler shouted.

  Roger was by his side in an instant.

  Tears streaked my cheeks.

  “L-leave me a-alone!”

  “Why?” Roger asked, taking off his glasses. “Because of the fog?”

  How did he know about the fog?

  “You know, without my glasses, I am just like you. I can’t see a thing. I’m blind as a bat.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine!” I screamed at him. Then I felt really bad. I took a couple of deep breaths, then said: “Sorry, but my father expects me to be the best Number 9 ever and …” I could feel the tears coming again, but I held them back. “Have you ever seen a striker with glasses?”

  “No,” he said and shook his head. “I haven’t, because pro players wear contact lenses.”

  I was feeling really bad now. Why did I have to hurt him like that?

  “Who cares about glasses?” Zoe asked. She took the glasses from Roger and put them on my face and looked at me. “I don’t,” she continued. “I want a striker who passes better. I don’t care if he wears glasses or not!”

  Her smile was awesome! I could see it clearly now through Roger’s glasses. For the first time Zoe was clear! And pretty! And there was no fog. It hit me like a bucket of ice water in the face. All of a sudden I didn’t mind being me. What was I thinking? The whole thing suddenly felt stupid. Nothing could hold me back. I’d win for the Wild Soccer Bunch. And so I reached out and Zoe took my hand and pulled me out from under the playground slide. I stood next to her and stretched. I felt proud again. I took a deep breath and admired the view all around me.

  The fog was gone. I could see further than ten feet. I could even see the street 50 yards away. I could even see my parents. Wait, what? Yes, that was them standing on the corner on the other side of the street.

  I remembered the deal I’d made with my mom and dad and blurted out: “No, I can’t!”

  “Can’t what?” Roger asked.

  “My f-father said I couldn’t play soccer anymore if I ran from my team one more time,” I said. “And I ran today.”

  I looked at my friends. Yes, that’s who they were: my friends. I realized that these guys were real friends and I’d never had a real friend. A friend who would come looking for me even though they lost because of me.

  The Wild Soccer Bunch fell behind because I didn’t pass the ball, and they couldn’t catch up because I ran away. I was feeling great and miserable at the same time. Life is unfair: why is it that you lose everything exactly at the same time that you seem to have it all?

  My parents walked slowly towards me, and for a second, I wanted everything to go away. I wanted the Wild Soccer Bunch to go back to the Devil’s Pit, and I wanted me back under that playground slide.

  Roger stood next to me.

  “Get your head together, Max! What are you waiting for?” he put his arm around my shoulder. “Come on, guys! Max needs our help!”

  “Roger’s right!” Zoe said and stood at my other side. Tyler, Fabio, Alex, Julian, Joey, Tyler, and Diego followed. We all put our arms over each others’ shoulders. And when my parents walked up, we stood in front of them like a wall.

  “Why, it’s Max’s mom and dad!” Tyler said. “Greetings!”

  “We would like to have a word with you,” Zoe added, and Roger smiled.

  “I’m all ears,” my father said and my mom nodded.

  “We wanted to let you know that Max didn’t run away from the team.”

  My mom and dad looked from Tyler to Zoe to Roger to me—with my mohawk and thick glasses on my nose. I looked like a clown in a sopping wet soccer jersey.

  “That’s not how I saw it,” my dad replied.

  “Well, we don’t know what you saw,” Diego spoke up. “But we do know what we need. We need Max. We need him on our team. He may not be the best Number 9—but he’s our Number 9. We believe he could be great, but it’s going to take time.”

  My mother sobbed. My father cleared his throat over and over, trying to get the lump out of his throat, but it didn’t help.

  “Max?” Josh asked. “Is your dad okay?”

  “Did something go down the wrong way?” Julian asked.

  “I think I might need a plumber,” my father joked.

  I burst out laughing. Despite my tears, I had to laugh, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran towards my parents and embraced them and they both held me tight.

  “I-I really need glasses, Dad,” I said. “I can’t be a striker for the Wild Soccer Bunch w-without them.”

  “We’ll talk about it. But I think it’s time you got yourself home, young man,” he said, pulling away from my embrace. “Now.”

  With that, he spun and walked away in the direction of our apartment building. My mother looked at me one more time before she followed him. I hesitated. Head hung low, I handed the glasses back to Roger. Then I ran after my parents. When Roger called after me, I turned around one more time.

  “Max! Danny and Kevin left because of you. If you leave us hanging, too, we don’t stand a chance against Ashburn!“

  Max Winds Up

  The next day, my mother picked me up from school and drove to town with me. The eye doctor examined me, and then an optician fitted me with glasses. I made sure they looked like Roger’s glasses, except for the frame. Roger’s glasses were red. For me there was only one color: bright orange.

  “No more excuses in school!” my mother said happily.

  “School?” I asked surprised. “I can handle school blindfolded. It’s the soccer field I gotta worry about. Now I can play for the Wild Soccer Bunch!“

  “You can, huh?” My mother looked at her watch. “Let’s go, you have a lot of math homework to catch up on.” She walked out of the optician’s office.

  “Mom, wait!” I ran after her. “I have an A in math—without glasses. I can do it when I get back from practice. I c-can’t let them down. I gotta get to the Devil’s P-Pit!”

  My mom studied me for a long while. I already knew that the longer moms study you, the better chance you have of getting what you want, so my advice to you is to keep quiet and let her think. She looked stern, but it didn’t take long for her to melt. She knew how much this meant to me.

  “Okay,” she finally answered. “But you better beat Ashburn!“

  “That’s a promise!” I hugged her. “How did you get Dad to agree?”

  “Trade secret,” she said. “Now I have to get him to come to the game. He was very embarrassed for you yesterday.”

  “Ancient history,” I said. “Bet on it.”

  Back at home, my mom agreed that I could go to the Devil’s Pit by myself, but insisted that I take one of her cell phones, just in case. After she left the room, I knew what I had to do. I took some cardboard and made a window-sized banner and wrote some stuff on it with magic markers. I folded the whole thing carefully and put it in my backpack along with some duct tape. I would need them later.

  I started on my journey. And it was beautiful.<
br />
  Because I could see!

  This time around, the way to the field seemed much shorter. Everything looked different with my new glasses. No more fog. Holy goalie! The world was so wide and beautiful! I saw new things everywhere I looked. And it gave me courage and confidence.

  Armed with all that confidence, I took the wrong train again at 16th Street. But this time, I did it on purpose. I took the same route I had taken the day of my first practice with the Wild Soccer Bunch. I got on the Blue Line and headed downtown. I got off at Logan Square. I had to settle a few scores.

  My first stop was the cab stand. Remember? The first time I traveled through the city, a cab driver had been reading the paper when I asked for directions. I was all alone and utterly lost. He didn’t care. He slammed his window shut and chased me off.

  Now I was back, and there he was, at the front of a really long line of cabs next to the call box. Business was slow, and he looked bored as he munched on a sandwich. I grinned, and from the opposite corner, I took out the cell phone and called the number on the call box. I could read it, even from this far away. Glasses are great! The light on the call box blinked. The cab driver got up slowly, forced his burger belly out of the car, rolled around it, and picked up the phone.

  “Yes?” he answered.

  “Hello! I need a cab. Immediately. Will you take a long fare?”

  The cabbie whistled. “Sure! I’ll take you anywhere you want to go!”

  he promised.

  “Really? How about Zanzibar?” I said.

  “Sure, why not?” he said. He had no idea what I was talking about. He just wanted the money. “Is that on the East Side?”

  “We need to go east. It’s pretty far, and we should leave now to beat the traffic.” I stifled a laugh. Even I didn’t know what I was talking about. But that didn’t sway the greedy cabby.

  “Don’t worry about directions,” he said. “I have a GPS.”

  “Awesome,” I said.

  “What’s the pick-up address?” he asked impatiently. I had him.

  “Oh, my address! Hold on,” I stammered and looked at the street sign above me. “Lumber Street. 5 Lumber Street. But hurry, please. I have an appointment in Zanzibar in an hour.”

  The cabbie jumped into his car, raced off with his tires squealing, and ran the red light. A police car came out of its hiding place behind a billboard and immediately pulled him over, really close to where I was standing. Two policemen got out of the car and walked over to him.

  I could hear him saying to the one of the policemen, “Sorry, I’m on an urgent call. It’s an emergency. I have to get a client to Zanzibar!”

  The police officers looked at each other.

  “You have to get to Zanzibar?” one of the policemen asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah,” the cab driver said. “It’s somewhere near the lake, I guess.

  The policemen burst out laughing. “And by lake, do you mean the Indian Ocean?” The two laughed some more and the cab driver started to get the idea he had been made a fool of. He looked around. You should have seen the look on his face. It was beautiful.

  “Last time I checked,” one of the policemen said. “Zanzibar was an island off the coast of Africa!”

  He peeled a ticket off his pad and slapped it in the cab driver’s palm.

  “Here’s your ticket,” the policeman said. “Have a nice flight.” They both laughed again and walked back to their car.

  The cab driver looked around in every direction and saw me. Not too far away. Me in my bright red Mohawk. Smiling. Waving.

  Then he recognized me. It was beautiful.

  I wanted to stay, but I had to move on. More scores. You know?

  The last time I looked back, the cab driver was still jumping up and down screaming something, but I was too far away to hear what he was saying.

  The convenience store wasn’t too far away and by the time I got there, I had stopped laughing. My stomach hurt.

  The convenience store owner had called me a thief and pulled me out onto the sidewalk by my ear. Remember? What a bully.

  I walked up to the store and looked around. The owner was not in sight. He was probably somewhere in the back. Perfect. I pulled the cardboard banner from my backpack along with the duct tape. Then I tiptoed over to his front window. I quickly taped the banner to the window, then hurried across the street to watch the festivities.

  It didn’t take long for a pedestrian to stop and read the sign. I watched from across the street as that pedestrian laughed and reeled in another pedestrian to read the sign. They both laughed. That’s when the store owner came out to see what was happening and one of the pedestrians pulled his ear! Then the other pedestrian pulled the shop owner’s ear! Then another. It was a free-for-all. The shop owner wriggled away from them and finally saw the sign in his window. It read:

  Ear Pulling Special. Today Only!

  And below that, it said:

  I was really mean to a kid the other day, so you are cordially invited to come in and pull my ears!

  The shop owner looked every which way and finally spotted me across the street. I was easy to recognize. I was not a thief with a red Mohawk. I waved. He screamed, but the traffic drowned him out. A bus came by and blocked his view of me. And when it moved on, I was gone.

  I walked toward the subway and took the Blue Line to Midway. There, I took the tram and got off at Brighton Place. And lo and behold, who should I run into? It was the old lady who threatened me with her crutch. You know, the one who was scared of my red Mohawk and thought I was a vampire? Or I just imagined she thought I was a vampire. You can decide later. I had something different in mind for her. It was time to do my good deed for the day.

  The old lady was trying to make her way up the street, carrying a heavy shopping basket. It was a real struggle for her. “Excuse me, may I help you carry this?” I asked pointing to her shopping basket.

  She looked at me for a long time. “You want to help me?” she asked.

  I pointed to my red Mohawk. “I know this looks scary. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve already been fed.”

  The old lady laughed and her laughter made me feel good. “Would you please be my good deed for the day?” I asked.

  She thought about it for a moment, then said: “Of course, young man,” and immediately passed her heavy shopping basket to me.

  As we walked, the old lady smiled and thanked me.

  I carried the basket all the way home for her, munching on the apples she had given me. When we walked past the flowerbeds, there were my old pals the garden monsters, aka the Unbeatables. When they had blackmailed Julian and attacked Camelot, they had been sentenced to community service as gardeners and street sweepers.

  “Hi Mickey,” I yelled. “What you said was wrong! The Wild Soccer Bunch is the best soccer team in the world. And I’ll never step in gum or doggy doo-doo because you are going to make sure the streets are nice and clean!”

  I bit into my apple and marched right past them. It felt great. As great as a professional soccer player who trained four years to get to the World Cup, reaching the pinnacle of his form exactly on the same day that he needed it. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

  When I got to our practice in the Devil’s Pit, I was unbeatable. I dribbled like Messi, and for the first time in my life, I passed the ball.

  Unbeatable Is Not Enough

  After warm-up, Larry called us over and divided us into three teams. Fast counter attack was practiced, and Tyler, Zoe, and I stormed the goal covered by the invincible Kyle.

  Number 10 passed the ball from the kick-off point to me in right field. I started, chased the ball towards the corner flag, and then sent a low cross into the penalty box. Zoe dived forward like a jetfighter and headed the ball into the net.

  “Hey, Max!” she yelled and gave me a thumbs up. “Danny couldn’t have done it any better!”

  Then we changed positions. Zoe was on the right, Tyler on the left. I moved into the c
enter, where I soared into the air to pick off Zoe’s ball, and headed it towards Tyler, who was right behind me. He volleyed the ball with his left, and slammed it without mercy towards Kyle’s goal.

  “WILLLD!” he made a fist and Zoe yelled: “All is well!” She ran towards me and lifted her hand for a high-five.

  “As long as you’re wild,” I finished, smiling, slapping her hand.

  “I didn’t do anything that Kevin wouldn’t have done,” she smiled back.

  “And that’s how we’ll send Ashburn to the moon!” I yelled. “D-d-d you all h-hear?” I was so happy and proud. I’d never felt this way before. And so, as usual, I got a bit carried away. “I promise, I will be so good you’ll forget D-Danny and K-Kevin.”

  I lifted my fist in triumph, expecting a cheer, but instead of applause, all I got was silence.

  I knew I’d blown it again before I even got all the words out. I just didn’t know why.

  The Wild Soccer Bunch turned away from me, walked to the hot dog stand, and sat down in the grass, defeated.

  Only Larry still stood at the kick-off center mark and looked at me.

  “W-what did I do this time?” I asked irritably.

  “You really don’t know, do you?” he asked as if it was crystal clear. “You just said you were better than our two best guys.”

  “I know! It’s the truth!” I countered. “And you are lucky to have me. The two of them aren’t here any more. They bailed out on us.”

  “So did you!” Larry spat back at me. “At least they didn’t run.”

  “Yeah, and you came and got me back because you needed me.”

  He had a stern look in his eyes, “No. We got you back because we like you. Because we care about you. Because we know deep down inside you, there’s a wild guy fighting to get out. But that has nothing to do with Danny and Kevin. Don’t you get it? They are irreplaceable! And that’s why you’re going to bring them back.”

  “Whoa! Wait a second.” He really took me by surprise. “Me? Why me? No way!” I pouted and walked over to my soccer bag on the sidelines.